A Tale of Rats, Charcoal and Delinquents
by LonDon323
Summary: AU - It all starts off with an innocent drawing assignment. What could possibly happen?
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: I adore Nnoitra and Nelliel. I just had to write something about them. Really. I did. - Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its character.

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[Chapter One]

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Nnoitra's eyes snap open.

Something is touching his foot. It's small, warm, soft and a little bit… wet? The muscles in his body tense as the thing crawls up his leg. The gangly boy shoves his blankets away form his body, the cold air of winter smashing against his bare arms like an avalanche of snow.

There is a rat. On his leg.

He opens his mouth prepared to scream, but he chokes the scream down his throat. He's Nnoitra. _The_ Nnoitra Gilga. Popular amongst the students of Karakura College for being the most lecherous delinquent in the entire school. And being known as such means he doesn't scream. Ever. Especially because of some rat.

With force unlike any other, Nnoitra smacks the little sucker off his leg. It crashes against the wall, falling to the ground with a loud _thud_. He hears it scurry away, but doesn't care as he flings open his door. Grimmjow snorts awake, watching his roommate sprint out of their dorm room. He stares for a second before falling back on his pillow.

Nnoitra barges into the men's washroom.

"That lil'—" he seethes, forcing the tap loose, water spitting on his hands. He smashes his fist against the soap dispenser, a mountain of suds spilling over his fingers. "The hell did that thing get in our room?"

He scrubs away the filth, dirt and grime he knows linger on the palm of his hand.

Nnoitra eventually stalks out of the bathroom, glaring down at every poor soul he passes by. That damn rat. He hopes no one saw him shoot down the corridor. Even if they did, he would rip their tongues out. He doesn't want anyone spreading word that he was freaked out over a puny rodent.

He's got a reputation to uphold, after all.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Mr. Kyoraku waltzes into the drawing studio, fourteen minutes late. A second later and the class would have been canceled. Nelliel doesn't glances away from her sketchbook when Orihime groans from her chair.

"He does this every week," the girl says, frowning, biting the end of her pencil.

Their teacher gives the class his lazy smile before dragging in a trolley, a projector and laptop sitting on top. He pushes through to the middle of the room. The projector's hum vibrates the quiet air as Mr. Kyoraku flips open the laptop. As the projector warms up, the teacher searches his files before clicking on a PowerPoint.

"Ok," he says, leaning against the trolley, "for this class, I've prepared something extra special."

Nelliel lowers her sketchbook.

"I hope he doesn't give us homework," Orihime whispers.

"You're all gonna have an official assignment." Mr. Kyoraku beams, proud of himself.

Nelliel raises a brow, surprised that her teacher considered the thought of an assignment in the first place. Since the start of the semester, Mr. Kyoraku has never, not once, not even hinted to the notion of working outside of class.

Orihime groans. Again.

Nelliel conceals the chuckle bubbling in her throat.

"I don't usually do this sort of thing. But last night, an idea popped into my head. So I thought, why not?" He turns his attention to the PowerPoint projected onto the wall. There is a list of notes in point form, written in Comic Sans. "For this assignment, I want you all to find a partner." Orihime clings her body to Nelliel's side. "But your partner can't be from the Fine Arts program. You gotta expand your horizons." Orihime reluctantly lets go, a frown on her face. "It can literally be anyone," Mr. Kyoraku says, elaborating. "A teacher, faculty member, student, but just not someone from this program. Now whomever you choose as your partner will become your model for this assignment. Your task is to sketch this person for thirty hours."

"Thirty hours straight?!"

"No, Keigo," Mr. Kyoraku says, calming the wide eyed teen, "that's the minimum amount of time you must do within the next couple of weeks. I'm not sure when this assignment will be due though." He pauses. "Probably not any time soon."

Mr. Kyoraku turns off his laptop a couple minutes later, his speech done, and leaves the class, humming a song as he closes the door behind him. As per usual, everyone neglects their charcoal, paper and pens and resort to chatting.

Orihime sulks in her spot.

"We actually get an assignment and we can't even work together," she says, sighing. "I'm so sad." Nelliel smiles at her friend, putting a hand on her shoulder as comfort. Orihime brightens up, her back straightening, eyes shinning. "Anyway, do you have any idea who to choose as your partner?" she asks, eager to know.

"Hm," Nelliel hums. "I think I have someone in mind."

OoOoOoOoOoO

"What th' hell you doin' here?" Nnoitra barks when Nelliel allows herself into his room.

He jumps up from the ground, dropping his baseball bat on his bed. The bat, however; rolls off his mattress and collides onto the floor. Nnoitra stiffens at the sound, but immediately brushes away the discomfort, cocking his chin up and giving the woman a nasty scowl.

"What's with the bat?" she asks, ignoring his question.

"Nothin'," he lies, covering up the fact that he was searching for the stupid rat. "Now answer m' question."

"Not unless you stop slurring your words."

Nnoitra squeezes his hands into fists, enraged. He stalks up to her, proud of his height and glares, fire blasting out of his eyes.

"Stop bein' so freakn' annoying' and get th' hell out 'a 'ere," he threatens, deliberately slurring more than necessary.

Nelliel's expression remains neutral.

"I came here to ask you something," she says, walking around the tall boy and sitting on his desk chair with a _plop_.

Nnoitra gives her an incredulous look and marches up to her, about to yell and yank her out of _his_ dorm room, but stops, when she sends him an honest smile. He takes a step back, confused. He tries to rip the emotion off his face, but knows that Nelliel can see through anything he does.

They've known each other since high school, after all. They've learnt a thing or two about one another.

Nnoitra clenches his teeth, anger boiling in his gut.

"What d'you want?" he snaps, crossing his arms.

"I have a drawing assignment," she says, "and I need you to be my model."

Nnoitra stares at her. She stares back, unfazed.

He blinks, seeming to process her demand at a slow rate. His mind turns, the gears scratching and bumping into one another. His arms remain crossed over his chest, frozen. His feet barely twitch as the cold floor sucks away the heat from his flesh. He thinks he hears the squeak of the rat, but isn't sure.

Finally, he reacts.

"Are you insane?" he blurts. "I 'aint gonna model for you!"

"Why not?"

"'Cause it's dumb."

He snatches the baseball bat from the ground, suddenly uncomfortable, wanting to do something, anything, with himself so he doesn't have to look into Nelliel's calculating gaze.

"Are you shy?" she wonders out loud, but Nnoitra knows she's saying that on purpose.

"I 'aint shy!" he bites, almost cracking the bat in half.

"Then why so defensive?"

"I'm not bein' defensive you art freak!"

"You know, you're making it seem like modeling is such a big deal."

Nnoitra can picture flames of rage exploding off his body. This irritating piece of— Who does she think she is? Making him sound like some weak little prick? He's not weak. Never has, never will be. Ever. Nnoitra can do anything he wants.

"Are ya challengn' me, girl?" he growls, mustering up the most menacing look he can create.

"No," she answers, leaning back against her seat, "but if it gets you to be my model, then yes."

He wishes murder wasn't a crime.

"Fine! I'll be yer stupid model!"

Nelliel stands from his chair, patting down the wrinkles on her jeans. A smile is on her face. It makes him angry. He doesn't know why, but it does, a lot. She keeps her bag slung over one shoulder as she struts to his door. Her hair swings as she walks. Nnoitra doesn't like how he notices this. Turning around, she locks eyes with him.

"Thank you," she says, her voice soft. "I'll meet you in the drawing studio tomorrow at noon. No one will be there since it's the weekend."

With that, she leaves.

Nnoitra stands in his spot, hands squeezing the bat, a frown on his face. Grimmjow suddenly shows up, leaning against the doorframe.

"Damn, I could hear you two flirting from all the way down the hall," he mutters, annoyed.

"Shut th' hell up."


	2. Chapter 2

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[Chapter Two]

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Nnoitra wakes up groaning. He is unbelievably tired.

There's crust in his eyes and his mouth tastes gross. He peers over to Grimmjow's side of the room to find an empty bed topped with a jumble of unfolded blankets. He closes his thin eyes, too lazy to wonder where the jerk went or think about brushing his teeth. Until he realizes…

Jumping out of bed, Nnoitra dashes out of their room and down the hall. The cold air of January hugs his bare chest, but he doesn't care.

With fury, he pounds on the locked washroom door.

"Grimmjow get th' hell out of there!"

He only hears a muffled grunt in return.

"Hurry up!" he bellows, jiggling the knob.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" Grimmjow shouts from the inside.

"I gotta take a dumb!"

"Too bad! Hold it!"

Nnoitra punches the door, denting it. His knuckles prick from the impact. With slight anxiety, he wonders what time it is. The sun is already out, pouring through the windows. And he can hear the loud chatter of students from the lobby a couple doors down. He snaps his head around, searching for a clock, but notices a kid walking by instead.

"Hey, you!" he yells, startling the lad.

With an irritated sigh the boy says, "I told you, my name is Uryu Ishida."

"Ya think I care?" Nnoitra snarls. "Now tell me th' time!"

"Why would I—"

"Just tell me th' freakn' time, you sucker!"

Uryu refrains from rolling his eyes before checking his watch.

"It's twenty minutes 'till noon," he says, walking off.

Twenty minutes. He only has twenty minutes. Dang it. Nelliel is probably there already.

Nnoitra hammers at the door, not the slightest bit guilty for bruising the poor chunk of metal.

He's known Nelliel for quite a few years now. He's aware of what happens whenever he shows up late. The first time he met her was for a dumb high school project, he had purposely come late to piss her off. But he learnt his lesson, she'd made sure of that, and he is never going to make that mistake again. Even if he is the infamous delinquent of the college. No one, not even a delinquent wishes to succumb to the wrath of Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck and her abiding law of punctuality.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Nnoitra slams open the drawing studio door. It rattles when it makes contact with the wall. Nelliel doesn't flinch, however; as she sets up an easel.

His breathing is heavy, ragged. His hair is disheveled and uncared for. He's sweating a bit from sprinting all the way across the campus. Everyone had given him a confused yet fearful look as he zipped by. He wipes his forehead of moisture and brushes his bangs out of his eyes. He didn't have enough to time brush his teeth. A sacrifice he had to make, but necessary.

"I'm here," Nnoitra states, marching to the girl, "what do I gotta do?"

She glances at him, acknowledging his presence before jerking her head to the stools stacked up against the back wall.

"Grab one of those chairs and bring it over," she says, clipping her large sheets of paper to the drawing board.

"I 'aint getn' you one o' those—"

"It's not for me," Nelliel cuts in, giving the lanky teen a look. "It's for you. We're going to be here a while so you'll want to sit down rather than stand."

Nnoitra, a little embarrassed (not that he'd admit it), scowls as he stalks away. He yanks a stool from the pile.

"Where do ya want me?" he asks, holding the chair over his shoulder.

He makes sure his back is tall, chin up and biceps show, hoping to intimidate the girl, but she doesn't give him the reaction he's looking for. He grinds his teeth, irritated. She simply steps away from her easel, and walks several paces to the right. For a moment she doesn't move, thinking, before nodding and pointing to where she is standing.

"Here is good," she tells him.

He doesn't say anything as he treads forward. Nelliel goes back to her paper, straightening out the edges. Placing the stool on the ground, Nnoitra lands his butt down. He crosses his arms, a deep frown on his face, showing his annoyance. He is suddenly aware that he hadn't tamed his hair before running here. He drags a hand through it self-consciously and glimpses down at the lazy pair of sweats and oversized T-shirt he's wearing.

He hadn't put any effort in to his appearance. He probably looks like a lazy bum, a scary lazy bum. He shouldn't be worrying about it though. He's Nnoitra. Nnoitra always looks this way. Being a scary lazy bum is his day-to-day motto.

"What do I do?" he interrogates, not liking the silence as the girl sets herself up.

"Hm," she hums, tapping her chin in thought. She turns to the boy. "Maybe twist your body away from me, bend your knee and stretch your arm out. Oh but make sure I can see your face."

Nnoitra gives her a blank stare.

"What?"

She rolls her eyes, but an amused grin pulls her lips. Nnoitra doesn't find it annoying, for once.

She swerves to his side, a professional gleam in her eye. With ease she places her hand on his forearm. Nnoitra is about to tug it away from her, but she raises it up, bends it a tad and steps back, analyzing her work. She then moves behind him, and Nnoitra almost jumps out of his skin when he feels one of her hands wrap around his chest and the other to his hip. Nnoitra is horrified when he feels his heart thud against his chest. She twists his body, carefully, gently.

She steps away.

"Actually, you don't have to bend your knee," she says, evaluating his pose. She scurries back to her easel, grabbing a piece of charcoal, quickly scratching onto the paper. Nnoitra can feel her eyes scanning his body, although covered, he feels vulnerable. "Turn your head more towards me," she says, her drawing yet to seize.

Nnoitra resentfully complies to her command. Never would he ever listen to anyone and do as they ask. But right now, he's feeling weird. And he's too confused to stress over his pride.

Two hours later.

"Damn," Nnoitra curses, scrunching his face as he rolls his shoulders. "My back is killn' me."

"You moved," Nelliel states, lifting her hand away from the paper. She gives him a displeased frown.

"Boo hoo," he mutters, standing from the stool. His back and legs crack form sitting for so long. "Ugh," Nnoitra whines, stretching his arms up. "Are we done yet?"

"No, we still have to do at least twenty eight more hours."

Nnoitra chokes on his saliva.

"Twenty eigh' freakn' hours?" he shouts, gawking at her. He groans loudly in frustration. "This is dumb!" he exclaims. "I quit. Find someone else t'do this stupid model thing!"

"The assignment is limited to one person, not more. And we've already completed two hours already."

"Yeah only _two_! We still got th' rest of it to go! I 'aint sitn' around for another twenty eigh' hours!"

He knocks over the stool, allowing it to skid across the room. He is not letting Nelliel force him into weird, uncomfortable poses for another eternity. His arms and legs are already as stiff as a rock from what they've done so far. He'd be pure granite by the end of it all.

Nelliel sighs, which snaps Nnoitra's attention towards her.

"What?" he barks.

"I'm disappointed in you," she admits, causing a baffled expression to twist the lanky boy's face. "I thought out of everyone in the school, you of all people would be the perfect candidate." Nelliel's shoulders slump the slightest bit. "You've always said that nothing was too difficult for you, but I suppose…" She glances away, fake tears swimming in her eyes. "I suppose you are unable to do such a simple thing as model. My expectations were too high."

For a moment the boy is unable to formulate any coherent words, startled by the girl's dramatic speech.

"The hell you blabbering on about?" Nnoitra finally bickers.

"Oh nothing," she says, packing away her charcoal. "You can quit, if that's want you really want."

The word quit stabs the boy's chest like a knife. The hell? Nnoitra 'aint a quitter. Behind her bangs Nelliel gazes up at him. A smirk is on her face, but she's hiding it.

"Quit?" he seethes, turning away. He marches to the exit of the studio, his feet pounding against the floor. He places a hand on the doorframe. "I'll see ya here t'morrow." With that, he slams the door shut as hard as when he walked in.

Nelliel lets out a chuckle.


	3. Chapter 3

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[Chapter Three]

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If Nnoitra claimed that he had his future all planned out, he would be lying.

He has no idea what he's doing with his life. That's why he's in General Education. General Education is for the poor souls of the world who deny that they are good at anything at all. Therefor with lack of resolve and motivation, choose the sole program they know will accept them. Like Nnoitra. But he doesn't like to dwell on these matters. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. So instead, he terrorizes the people in his classes. Especially when they question him about his future plans.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that Nnoitra hates sitting around in a plastic chair, drowning out a teacher who hates him, there is _one_ class he does, kind of, sort of, a little bit, _like_. Kind of (the term _like_ is used very mildly). Not that he'd show it. Or admit it. He always tries to appear agitated out of his mind, but deep down, he can't help but enjoy it. And what subject does he enjoy? Well—

Nnoitra stalks to the back of the class. For those who have already arrived, they cower at his height. He yanks his chair back. It scratches painfully hard against the floor, but he doesn't care, and flops down, grabs his stained pieces of loose leaf and the pencil he had tucked between the crevice of his ear and head.

—Calculus. Yup.

Nnoitra notices a kid, Tesra, giving him an odd look. From the back of the class, Nnoitra shoots lasers out of his eyes. The blond goody-two-shoes twirls his head away, sweat dripping off his chin.

If that damn punk looks at him one more time, he's gonna catapult his desk on the guy's face.

Tesra was the first, and only, kid in Calculus who ever asked him why he actually tried in this class. Instead of answering, Nnoitra punched him in the gut. The kid was taken to the nurse's office and took a leave of absence the next week. Nnoitra was pleased with how things turned out, but Mr. Kuchiki had threatened him with an expulsion if he ever saw him do something so outrageous again.

That freaking teacher. Nnoitra hated him. But he didn't exactly hate what he taught.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Nelliel knew exactly what she was going to do with her life.

Since the first time she picked up a pencil, she fell in love with art. It was destiny, really. Nothing more than that. She was hooked. Art was, still is, impeccably fascinating. Although, from time to time, she did have difficulty figuring out what to draw.

When she had enrolled into high school, she was in the middle of a crisis, a terrible crisis. She couldn't draw. No matter how long she starred at a piece of paper, nothing came to mind. Nothing interesting. For days she vented out her frustration, thinking and thinking, pushing and stretching her mind to the limit. But nothing came to her. She could not make one mark. Until—

Nelliel flips through her sketchbook, her back resting against one of the plush chairs in the library. Most of her drawings are of her tall, lanky friend, Nnoitra. He doesn't know this, of course. She always sketches him when he is unaware, which isn't difficult, he is a bit of an airhead.

She smiles when she finds one particular image of Nnoitra starring out the window of a bus. He looks thoughtful, quiet, and slightly confused. It's as if he is in despair but is trying incredibly hard not to show it. Nelliel is aware that the entire college is frightened by the boy. He always tries to put on a macho facade. He compares fear with power. But Nelliel is aware, deep down, that he's just insecure. He's always been insecure, even in high school. He never talks about it. He never acknowledges it. He always claims he's the greatest person in the world. But she knows. Even though Nnoitra believes he can mask his feelings well. She knows. Nelliel has always known.

She tugs her sweater tighter around her body when a cool breeze whizzes by. She shivers.

She would never use this knowledge against him though. She cares too much to do something like that. Not that Nnoitra can see this. He's too blinded by his stupidity to realize someone actually thinks about him.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Hey, do you think Mr. Kyoraku and Nanao are dating?" Nelliel hears Keigo ask from beside her.

"What? No," Orihime answers. She puts a hand to her mouth, leaning over Nelliel, her voice extra quiet. "Rukia told me they're related."

"Are you serious?" The boy gasps, mouth gaping. "Then why is the guy always gushy around her?"

Orihime shrugs her shoulders. They both stare at their teacher and peer, Nanao, curiosity swimming in their eyes. The man is kneeling beside her, arm around her chair as the girl clenches her teeth in annoyance. Nelliel only smiles, looking up from her sketchbook.

"Do you know who you're going to be drawing for the assignment?" Nelliel asks, glancing between Keigo and the orange-haired girl.

Keigo's face bleaches white. He groans, moans and slides down his seat. A look of dread weighs down his lips.

"Yes," he says, much reluctantly. "My roommate, Ikkaku. That stupid baldy told me if I didn't draw him he would force me to stick my hand in the toilet after her took a dumb." He shivers. "And he also said he would hit on my sister." He shivers, again. "I had no other choice, really. It was a life or death situation. Although I still think he's going to hit on my sister whether I draw him or not."

Nelliel raises a brow. Orihime giggles.

"What about you?" Nelliel asks the girl, watching as her head droops.

"I don't know," Orihime says, sighing. "I was running all over school but I didn't really find anyone that caught my eye. You know, it's a lot harder to find someone than it looks. I thought this assignment would be a piece of mustard-filled-cake, but it's actually hard." She frowns, but then turns to Nelliel, eyes bright. "Who are you drawing, Nel?" She has a smile on her face when she asks this. Keigo zips up right in his chair, eager to know as well.

They lean in.

"Nnoitra."

Silence.

"What?!" they both scream in horror. Keigo's chair tips over, and he falls. Orihime gawks, frozen.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Keigo says, hiding behind the stool. "There is no way that freaky guy is gonna agree to that!"

"He already has," Nelliel tells him.

Keigo faints.

"Are you really sure this is a good idea? I know he's your friend and all but…" Orihime glances around, afraid anyone will hear what she is about to say. "I heard he stole an AK47 and used it to blow up the candy shop down the street because the owner wouldn't let him in."

Nelliel almost laughs.

"There's no way that's true!" Keigo says, springing back to life. "I heard that he-who-must-not-be-named came from a different dimension where he murdered people and monsters for fun and ate children for breakfast!"

Nelliel lets out a snort.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Nnoitra is leaning against a desk; its edges are pointy, its surface is hard. His back is about to break.

He clenches his teeth, trying to stay as motionless as possible, but his motivation is growing thin. His knees are beginning to shake and his arms are wobbling. His abs are burning like fire and his calves are crying. He tilts his head back, letting out a loud groan.

"You can take a break now," Nelliel tells him, stepping back from her easel.

"Finally," he grunts. His spine cracks as well as his shoulders, joints and neck. He heaves himself up and plops on the table, delighted, as he lays down on the flat wood. "Man," he says, sighing, "this sucks."

"Stop complaining," Nelliel says, flipping through her sketches. "Aren't you having a good time?"

"No," he answers, his arms and legs dangling off the desk. "Why would I b'havn' a good time?"

Nelliel hums.

"Well, I'm having a good time."

Nnoitra doesn't say anything and eyes the ceiling. He wants to ask her why she chose him to be her model of all people, but he doesn't. A question like that coming from him would sound weird.

His back muscles relax.

The room is quiet, safe for the rustling of paper coming from the girl. It's peaceful. Calm. Nnoitra realizes he doesn't usually feel this way, if ever. Is he letting his guard down? He always has it up whenever he's with other people, especially on a one-on-one situation. But now, he thinks he can afford taking it easy for once. But only once. He won't let his guard down ever again.

"Tesra told me you're the top student in his calculus class."

Nnoitra tenses. A startled sound muffled in his throat.

"The heck?" He scowls. "How th' hell d'ya know that blond kid?"

"He wen't to our high school, remember? I see him sometimes in the cafeteria." Nnoitra curses under his breath. He's gonna bully that sucker for telling Nelliel (of course it had to be her) about his thing with math. He doesn't want anyone, particularly her, to know about something like that. It jeopardizes his image. He's a delinquent. And delinquents are not nerdy math geniuses. They're supposed to hate math. Math is their enemy. "Is it true?" Nelliel asks.

"What?"

"That you're good in math?"

Nnoitra jerks his head up, eyes glaring at the girl. The way she's asking makes it seem like she's calling him dumb.

"Ya think I can't b'good at anything?" he snarls.

"No," she answers, glancing at him, a pencil in hand. "I'm just surprised."

Nnoitra sits up, leaning against his hands.

"I 'aint stupid," he states.

He doesn't want her thinking that she's smarter than him. In high school, she had always given him this… look that boiled his bones. It was as if she knew he was weaker than her, at everything, which is false. She sucked at sports. She still does. He always laughed at her when she tried to play soccer without tripping.

"I never said you were stupid."

"Well you were thinkn' it," he bickers as she raises a brow. "Ya wan't proof?" He hops off the table, snatches his bag from the floor, digs around before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He unravels it and shoves it in the girls face. Nelliel, displeased by his roughness, glances at the paper nonetheless. "One hundred percent," he says, smirking proudly. "And I didn' even study."

Her eyes widen, fascinated by the proof, although it was unnecessary. She never doubted the fact that he could be a prodigy in math.

"I had no idea." She looks at him. "Why didn't you apply for the mathematics program?"

Nnoitra's smirk falters. Her question is genuine.

"Uh," he drawls, at a loss for words. She is curious. Her eyes fill with honest curiosity and interested. Nnoitra doesn't think anyone has ever been interested in his life, or looked at him in that way before. He begins feeling a bit shy. He takes a few steps away and crosses his arms. "I dunno."

"With how well you are doing, it would be easy for you to get in."

"I 'aint applyn' to some dumb thing like that."

"How is it dumb? It's a difficult program. Only the most brightest students can get in."

"Yeah the geeks," Nnoitra mumbles, turning away.

Nelliel can tell he's considered it before. She can also tell that he hadn't applied for it because he thought he wouldn't be good enough. She frowns, walking up to him. He avoids looking at her when she approaches. He keeps his arms crossed over his chest, almost like a barrier, protecting himself. Nelliel just smiles.

"Well, I think you should switch into math. It would be perfect for you."

He glances at her for a second before stalking to his bag. He pulls one strap over his shoulder and heads for the door.

"Wh'tever," he grumbles, walking out, but he doesn't slam the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

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[Chapter Four]

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"Ok class," Mr Kyoraku says, smiling at his students. "I just thought of another great idea to add to this assignment."

Orihime and Nelliel look at each other.

"Imagine if he asks us to sketch our partners in the nude?" Keigo whispers from behind them. Orihime almost laughs, but she slams her hand over her mouth before she can. Nelliel shakes her head in amusement. "Mr. Kyoraku is kinda weird so you can't deny that it could be a possibility," the boy says.

Nelliel raises a brow, but doesn't push further into Keigo's absurd theory. She keeps her attention to the sketchbook in her lap. She is touching up a rough drawing she had done of Nnoitra during one of their sessions. She smiles at his expression. He is frowning, obviously. Frowning so much really isn't healthy.

"Now," Mr. Kyoraku continues, "I will give a bonus of thirty marks," Orihime and Keigo gasp, Nelliel looks up, eyes widening, "to anyone who draws their partner in the nude."

The class is silent.

"Oh my gosh I knew it!" Keigo belches out as all the students burst into a ruckus of gasping, cheering and disbelief.

Nelliel blinks, almost dropping her pencil. She looks at Orihime, whose face is flushed.

Thirty marks. Nelliel's mouth widens. Thirty extra marks. _Free_. Like water from a fountain. Mr. Kyoraku grins, his teeth showing. Thirty is a lot. Not just a lot, unbelievable. Especially for an art student. Nelliel looks down at her sketch of the lanky teen. Passing up a chance like this would be disgraceful. Selfish even.

Could she ask him? Would he agree? Would asking even be an option?

Thirty extra marks though. Man. This will never happen again.

Nelliel bites her lip. What would she give to have those marks given to her like a gift. But would he? Nnoitra, the hotheaded, aggressive delinquent who has never opened up to a single soul in his life? Agreeing to do a nude model session does not sound like something he would do. Vulnerability is not in his nature. Especially to be naked in front of a girl. He would smack her even if she joked about it.

But…

It's worth a try, right?

OoOoOoOoOoO

Nnoitra scans the underside of his bed.

It's been a full week and he has yet to see that rat again. He probably scared it off, he wouldn't be surprised, scaring things are his specialty.

"Why do you keep looking under your bed?" Grimmjow asks, sitting at his desk, an irritated frown on his face.

The blue-haired boy has his earphones on. He had tried, relentlessly, to tune out his roommate as the guy made a ruckus dropping his baseball bat every single freaking second. But the kid's been shuffling about like a deranged animal. For heaven's sake. Grimmjow's a got a engineering exam to study for. Why the hell can't this idiot stay quiet for a couple hours?

"Why d'ya care?" Nnoitra barks back.

Grimmjow resists the urge to poke the kids eyes out.

"Because I need to study and you're being loud, so shut your face and stop dropping that stupid bat!"

"I can do wh'tever I want!"

Grimmjow growls, about to stand from his chair and beat the lights out of this punk, but there is a knock on the door. They both turn their heads to the source. Grimmjow lets his anger cool as he pushes himself, his chair rolling across the room and opens the door.

"Oh hey," he greets, nodding to the teel-haired girl. He rolls back to his desk. "What's up?"

"I'm here to see Nnoitra," Nelliel says, casual as ever. She leans against the doorframe, looking to said boy. Nnoitra scowls at her, his hair a mess and still wearing his white pyjamas. Although the right size, the clothes look extra baggy on him due to his scrawny frame. "I have a favour to ask." Grimmjow lifts a questionable brow as he glances between his roommate and the girl.

"What d'ya want?" Nnoitra bites out.

"I need you to do a nude model session with me."

Nnoitra smacks his skull against the wall. Grimmjow lets out a whistle.

"Whoa!" Grimmhow exclaims, amused by her request. "Now that, I wasn't expecting."

"The hell d'ya just say?!" Nnoitra shouts, a hand grabbing the back of his head, wincing at the pain.

"Is this for some sort of art thing?" Grimmjow asks, completely interested. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, grin widening.

"Yeah," Nelliel answers. Nnoitra glares, not pleased that she ignored his question. "If I draw him in the nude I get an extra thirty marks."

"Damn." Grimmjow gapes, impressed by the bonus points. He turns to his roommate, who is seething on his bed. "You gonna do it?"

"Hell no!"

"Why not?" The blue-haired male frowns.

"I 'aint taken' my clothes off!" Nnoitra snaps. "Especially not for her!"

Grimmjow shrugs.

"Too bad you chose this idiot to be your model." Grimmjow sighs, shaking his head. "You know, just because I'm nice, well, nicer than him," Nnoitra shoots the guy a menacing look, "I'll gladly take his position and be your nude model. He obviously doesn't have the guts to do it, or a suitable build to show off." Nnoitra's eyes widen. Is this guy trying to get him mad? Nelliel watches as the tall teen balls his fists into his bed sheets, fire spilling through his clenched teeth. "I bet this guy doesn't have a single muscle on his body. Only skin and bones." The blue-haired boy turns to his roommate with a challenging grin. Nnoitra only growls. "I guess I'm right, huh?"

"Shut up!"

Nnoitra hurls his pillow at him. He misses.

Grimmjow stands from his chair, strolling over to Nelliel.

"So," he says, smiling, "you wanna do this nude model thing or—" he trails off, leaving the rest to Nnoitra's imagination.

In the blink of an eye, Grimmjow is sent flying across the room. Nelliel's mouth gapes in alarm when Grimmjow tumbles on his bed, eyes wide. Nnoitra lets out a breath, hands fisted in the guy's sweater.

"The hell you thinkn' about, you perv?!" he snarls, glaring with rage pouring out of his skin. Grimmjow tries to get up, but the lanky boy slams his elbow into the guy's back. Grimmjow shrieks. "There's no way in hell yer gonna strip in front o' her!"

"Get off of me!"

"No way." Nnoitra scowls, pushing his entire weight down.

"So um," Nelliel speaks up, wanting to calm the aggression. Nnoitra's gaze immediately snaps towards her. "Are you going to do it?"

"No way!"

"You don't have to be completely naked," she says, putting her hands in her jean pockets. "You can cover yourself with a blanket or something. And I wouldn't be drawing you in public, of course."

"Come on man, just do it," Grimmjow says, voice muffled from the blanket mushed to his mouth. "It's not like you're gonna be showing off your di—" Nnoitra growls. "You'll be covered. And you've been friends with her for like forever, she's not some random stranger, she won't judge you."

"What does'at have t'do with anything?!"

"Please?" Nelliel pleads. "It's thirty free marks."

Nnoitra hesitates, his grip loosening on Grimmjow's sweater. The blue-haired boy scrambles off the bed, jumping to the mirror hanging above his desk to fix his bangs. Nnoitra crosses his arms, groaning as he glares at the girl standing by the door. Her eyes are begging him, asking him, pleading for him to say yes. But Nnoitra's never been naked in front of any one before. Not even in a bathhouse. Not that he's ever gone to a bathhouse before, but still. If he were to go to one he would refuse to bathe naked.

Although, it is true that they've known each other for a very long time. They've gone to the beach together wearing their bathing suits but… it's not like he'd be comfortable to casually take off _all_ his clothes so she can stare at his body for a good three hours.

"Never mind," Nelliel says quietly. "You don't have to do it."

She didn't even tease him. Or challenge him.

Nnoitra frowns. She always tries to get a kick out of him whenever she wants something, trying to make him feel bad. Not this time. Ugh.

"Ok fine," he grumbles, but she doesn't hear him.

"Pardon?" She is about to leave.

"I'll do it!" he says louder, not looking at her.

"Really?" Nelliel and Grimmjow blurt together.

"I said yes, didn' I?" he snaps, his cheeks getting warm.

A large smile stretches the girl's lips.

"Thank you!" She's beaming. "How about you come over to my dorm room next Friday? My roommate won't be there all day so no one will walk in."

"Sure," he mumbles, "wh'tever."

When Nelliel leaves with a bounce to her step, Grimmjow gets a kick out of teasing him the rest of the day. And the next day. And the next. And, well, every single waking moment until Friday comes rolling around. Nnoitra socks him in the gut.


	5. Chapter 5

.

[Chapter Five]

.

Nnoitra has never been nervous before. Not even for an oral presentation. But today… today he is nervous.

His hands are shaking and clammy, his throat is dry, he can't breath properly and he thinks he's going to explode with how fast his thoughts are racing. He took a shower yesterday night, a forty minutes shower. He also took a shower this morning, and another one a couple minutes ago. He still doesn't think he's clean. Damn nerves. The heck is wrong with him right now? He's acting like a wimp.

He scowls at himself. Why is he succumbing to the weakness of anxiety? Delinquents don't get anxious. Delinquents make _other_ people anxious. Nnoitra should not be freaking out. He should be calm, collected, nonchalant.

Grimmjow watches as his roommate paces in their room. He's surprised the guy's pacing hasn't left a trail on the floor yet.

"Dude," Grimmjow says, eyes darting back and forth, following the boy's movements, "calm down."

"Shut up," Nnoitra cusses. "I _am_ calm."

Grimmjow snorts. Nnoitra glares.

"You're flipping out, just admit it."

"I 'aint flippn' out."

"You are."

"Get th' hell outta here."

Grimmjow sighs, rolling his eyes, but continues to watch his roommate pace. He's never seen him so unsure before. Quite a rare occurrence indeed. Nnoitra has always been the overly confident, stuck up prick. But now he's a ball of nerves.

"What th' heck is wrong with me?" Nnoitra groans, irritation and panic in his tone. Grimmjow wonders if he should say anything, but decides to enjoy the show a bit longer. He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. "This 'aint normal." Nnoitra's scowl is deeper and tenser than usual. His voice is even loaded with confusion and worry.

"It's 'cause you like her," Grimmjow speaks up. Nnoitra stiffens at his words, not understanding the implications. "Dude, when a guy has a crush on a girl, or in your case, when a guy is absolutely head over heals in love with a girl, he tends to experience extreme amounts of self-doubt and anxiety."

"I don't—"

"It's ok, my boy. This is a completely normal feeling all young men experience at some point in their life."

"Shut up!" Nnoitra shouts, mortified when his cheeks burn red. "I don't—I don't think of Nel that way!"

"I beg to differ."

Nnoitra growls, trying with all his might to calm the blush on his face, but he can't. So he turns around, ashamed of his body's uncontrollable reaction.

"Aren't you supposed to meet Nelliel at her dorm by now?" Grimmjow prods, checking the time on his phone. "It's almost one o'clock."

"Ya think I don't know that already?" Nnoitra answers through clenched teeth. He squeezes his hands into fists. His stomach is twisting in knots and his heart is pounding like a drum. He forces himself to get it together, but he can't seem to fall into his typical macho persona.

Grimmjow sighs.

"Just go already! You're giving me a headache." Nnoitra snaps his gaze in his direction, shooting lasers from his eyes. "The sooner you go, the sooner you get it over with."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Nnoitra stalks down the girl's dormitory. There aren't any people roaming around the halls. Thank God. He does not want anyone to see him waltzing into Nelliel's room. No way. He doesn't want people getting the wrong idea.

He can see her door. It's open, just a bit. Probably so he can get in without knocking. She's always mindful of every detail. Damn. Why does she always have to be so put-together? She never stresses out or worries. She always keeps a level head and stays on top of everything. He curses her for being born that way. The art freak. Who does she think she is?

Nnoitra halts in front of her door.

He seethes, regretting everything that is about to happen. He can't even believe he agreed to her absurd request. He could just turn back around. He doesn't actually have to go through with this. But then he would look like a fool, and he doesn't want to face the embarrassment and torture Grimmjow would force upon him.

He groans and pushes the door open. It's now or never.

Nelliel is standing in front of her bed. Her blinds are closed and she has pushed her furniture to one side of the room. Her bed is the only thing resting against the wall, a blanket folded on top. There's also a mountain of pillows on the floor. She's probably going to use them as props. Her desk chair is in the center of the room, a measly five feet away from where Nnoitra is most likely going to be modeling.

His stomach constricts. He is so nervous.

She turns around, seeming to just notice his presence. When their eyes meet, he stiffens up like a rock. She doesn't say anything for a moment, a little surprised by his abrupt arrival. She eventually lets out a breath, her body now facing him. She's wearing her signature baggy jeans and green T-shirt. Nnoitra usually doesn't pay attention to what people are wearing, but he supposes he notices her outfit because soon he will be taking his off.

"I was just setting everything up," she says, a hint of shyness is her voice. "Um," she looks to the bed then to him before deciding something in her mind. "There's no where to take off your clothes in here, so I'll just wait outside." Nnoitra scratches the back of his head, taking a step deeper inside as Nelliel scurries to the door. "Just cover yourself with the blanket over there and call me when you're done." He nods and she closes the door behind her with a soft click.

Nnoitra runs a hand through his hair.

Calm down. Just calm down. It's only Nelliel. She isn't a stranger. He's known her for over five years.

When he reaches for the hem of his shirt, he notices that his hands are shaking. He grunts. Annoyed that he's acting this way. He pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it on the girl's desk. The air isn't cold. He has a feeling that Nelliel turned up the heat this morning. She did it for him. He reaches for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it loose from the waist of his pants. He places it on top of his sweater. He unbuttons his jeans, unzipping the zipper.

He hesitates. He can't be a wuss. He's already half naked. He tries to yank his pants off, but fails when he realizes he's still wearing his shoes. Quickly, he chucks them and his socks away. In a swift motion he flings off his pants. Any more lingering and he would've chickened out.

He stares at his boxers.

"Do I gotta take m' underwear off too?" he calls, horrified that he's asking such a question.

"Yes please," Nelliel answers, more politely than usual.

He can feel his neck turning red, but is glad that at least his hair is long so she wouldn't notice. The perks of long hair.

He takes a breath when he hooks his finger on the rim of his boxers. He closes his eyes. He has to do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. He can't dawdle. The faster, the sooner, the better. His breath is quivering. Come on. He tries to do it. He takes another breath. His arms are shaking. He bites the inside of his cheek.

He does it.

Without another thought he shoves his boxers underneath his pants and grabs the blanket. He sits his butt down on the girl's bed covering his area with the sheet. His heart thuds against his chest.

He did it. He can't believe it. He's naked. Completely naked. In Nelliel's room. On her bed. His… you know, covered by a single blanket. Nnoitra forces himself to stop thinking.

He opens his mouth, remembering he has to call her in, but his voice dies in his throat.

"I—I'm done," he calls, inwardly cursing himself for stuttering.

She quickly slips inside, not giving anyone a chance to peek in (not that anyone is there) and locks the door. Nnoitra is leaning back against his hands, back hunched a bit and legs spread — whoa. He makes sure the blanket is secure around his waist down before Nelliel turns around. Her cheeks are a bit pink. It kinda makes him feel better knowing that he's not the only one feeling nervous. But only a little.

She isn't the one naked here.

She stares at him for a moment before grabbing her sketchbook and pencil from her desk, placing it on her chair.

"Well," she starts, standing, a little unsure of herself. He thinks his heart is about to leap out of his throat. She picks up a few pillows from the ground and takes a step towards him. He swallows. "I was thinking of putting a few of these around you so you'd be more comfortable, and it would look nicer as a background in my drawings." He nods, not trusting his voice. She hands over a few pillows. He takes them placing them behind and around him.

"So…" he says, uncertain as to how he should pose.

"Just lean back for now," she says, sitting on her chair with her sketchbook and pencil in hand. He does so, unable to look her in the eye. "Maybe have one leg bent and the other hanging over the edge of the bed." Nnoitra mentally tells himself to breath. He carefully raises his left leg, exposing it as he eagerly pulls more of the blanket to his front. His fists are bawled up in the blanket, afraid that it will disappear. "Now just put your right hand on top of that pillow and your left hand on your bent knee."

Nnoitra tenses up. He doesn't want to move his hands away. He really doesn't. If he does, the only think protecting _that_ area will be the blanket. Not that he doesn't trust the poor thing, he's just freaking out.

With great hesitance, Nnoitra lifts his hands away, placing them in their ordered location. He doesn't even know how is able to do this. He tries to stop them from shaking. Somehow they do. A little.

"Perfect," Nelliel tells him, pencil already marking up her page.

She sketches him with the same passion as any other day. Vigorously she flips to another sheet, eyes darting back and forth. Nnoitra can feel his cheeks begin to flush. He mentally freaks. With all his might he tries to calm his heart, but the blood keeps pumping through his veins like a crazed animal. His entire face starts to burn. Even his ears and chest go red. He is mortified. With quick thinking, he lowers his head, his hair falling around his face. He relaxes a bit. Hoping she can't see.

This goes on for another eternity and a half.

He starts to feel less awkward. His arms stop shaking and he is able to control his breathing. He is thankful that the room isn't freezing and that the door is locked, and that the window is covered by her blinds. He should get himself some blinds. The window in his dorm room didn't come with any.

Despite the fact that he is feeling less uncomfortable, he still can't flush out the red painting his face. It's been giving him anxiety. It's true that his hair is working as a barrier, but it's not perfect. His ears and chest are red too. At some point he had moved and his ears escaped its safety. He wanted to smack himself, but he didn't for obvious reasons, and his hair isn't long enough to reach further than the base of his neck. He didn't even know his chest could turn red in the first place.

He can't believe he's naked. This alone blows his mind. He's never going to do something like this ever again. Never.

"Can you move your hair out of the way? I can't see your face."

Nnoitra blanks.

"No way," he bites out, but his voice quavers.

"I need to see your expression."

"Jus' make it up."

"I can't just 'make it up'."

"Well too bad," he snarls, turning away.

Nelliel catches sight of the red glow of his ears. She stares, her pencil lifting away from the paper. She bites her lip, looking at her drawing then back to the boy. She can tell he's embarrassed. She's embarrassed herself, but she's happy that he's doing this for her. She didn't expect him to agree. She honestly thought he would turn her down with his usual scowl. But he didn't.

"Hey," she says, lowering her sketchbook, "can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Do you like me?"

He doesn't answer her, but she can see how his chest becomes scarlet.

"Why th' hell ya askn' me this?" he splutters. "Don'tcha have some drawin' t'do?"

"I've been wondering for a while," she confesses, bringing her sketchbook to her face, eyes peeking over at him. He doesn't look at her. "Um." She examines the blanket before shifting her gaze to the floor. "I've wanted to tell you something." She can hear his nervous breathing. "We've known each other for a while now, right?"

"So?"

"So," Nelliel continues, "it's not like we're acquaintances anymore." Nnoitra shifts a bit, listening to her words. "I know you're kind of an airhead," the boy's eyes narrow, "and that you have a bad temper, but I've noticed many things about you that many people over look."

"There's nothn' ta overlook," he states. He swallows, looks at his knee then glares at his shoes in the far corner of the room. He squirms a bit. "Why d'ya want to draw me anyway?"

She lowers her sketchbook on her lap.

"I have two reasons and they're kind of embarrassing."

"I don't care." He glances at her, frowning. "Spit it out."

"Well." She bites her lip. "The first reason is because I only seem to like drawing you and no one else." Nnoitra blinks. "And the second reason is because I find you attractive."

His eyes widen.

"What?" He gawks. "Attractive?" He's never thought he was attractive. Not ever. And for Nelliel to admit that she finds him so… "I'm freakn' tall and lanky and m' face 'aint nice t' look at." She snorts.

"Don't say that. You're really smart, funny and shy but you don't want to acknowledge it. Although, being insecure is quite charming."

"I 'aint insecure! How can I be insecure when I'm freakn' naked right now!"

At his outburst, Nelliel's blinks. Her face turns pink.

Nnoitra becomes crimson. Why the heck did he say that? He covers his face with his hand, utterly horrified with himself. Why is he acting like an idiot? He isn't an idiot. Well he is, but right now he wishes he wasn't. There is a time and place to act like an idiot and now isn't one of them.

In all, Nnoitra has to admit that today's been a strange day, stranger than usual. He typically doesn't blush his much. Ever. Nor does he agree to model for his friend, naked, above anything else. Maybe he's sick or something. Anyway, he shouldn't have said that. He can feel his body tense and his stomach twist. All he can think about is that one blanket is covering his — and Nelliel is probably thinking the same thing.

Ugh. Why is he such an idiot?

He runs a hand through his hair. He wonders where Grimmjow is. He needs to beat something up.

"Thank you, by the way," Nelliel speaks up, breaking the silence, the _extremely_ awkward silence. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leans back in her chair. "You're really brave for doing this." Nnoitra can tell that she really means it. It makes his heart swell when she's honest with him. He doesn't think he'd ever tell her that. Unless she knows already. Despite it being embarrassing, he wouldn't be surprised if she did. She always seems to know everything, about him anyway. She's always been an expert at reading his emotions no matter how hard he tries to hide them. "You didn't have to do this for me. I really am thankful."

Nnoitra looks at her as she gazes down at her lap. It's in strange situations like these that they are able to open up to each other. Not that he minds. He doesn't have anyone else he can talk to. Except for her. She never judges him. He never judges her. There's a balance between them that Nnoitra has never experienced with anyone else. Their relationship is special that way.

"No problem," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

She smiles.


	6. Chapter 6

.

[Final Chapter]

.

Nelliel feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulls it out, checking who has texted her.

Orihime is standing just beside, scratching into the paper resting against her easel. It's about to tear, but the orange-haired girl isn't paying attention. She's been blabbering the entire class, worried over who she should choose as a model for the assignment. She still hasn't found anyone, unfortunately. Although, they still have the rest of the semester to complete it. She shouldn't be freaking out. Oh well.

 _When d'ya finish?_ is what Nnoitra has sent.

Nelliel supposes he is referring to her drawing class. She glances to Mr. Kyoraku, who is drinking a cup of tea at the front of the class. She steps to the side, hiding behind a cluster of students. She types a quick response, slipping her cell into her sleeve. She continues to draw the still life her teacher had set up, a bowl. Just a bowl. Oh yeah, and a cup, but she can't see it from where she's standing. Orihime keeps talking, her voice hushed, about her dilemma.

 _My class should be ending in ten minutes, but I usually stay in the studio a bit longer._

She wonders why Nnoitra has texted her all of a sudden. She didn't even know he knew how. He never uses his phone, only to smash in on the ground to express his anger. She sighs, but there's a smile on her face. He really is an interesting character.

She peeks at Orihime, thankful that the girl is distracted, and peers at her phone when it buzzes once again.

 _Ok._

She raises a brow. That's it? She shrugs, pushing her phone into her pocket. She'll find out soon enough.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Nnoitra crosses his arms as he leans his back against the wall. The drawing studio is a couple feet away. He can hear the muffled sound of whispers, falling pencils and ruffling paper from where he stands. His phone is in his bag. He never brings it anywhere. He never needs it, except for now.

A couple art students pass by. They glance at him, confused and afraid of his presence. He scowls, glaring down with his overwhelming height. Why the heck are all these people short? He's a giant compared to these shrimps. Nelliel isn't that short. She's pretty tall.

The drawing door opens.

Nnoitra snaps his head up, snarling at everyone that walks out. They all notice him. Obviously. He isn't easy to look over with his thin eyes and large teeth. Their smiles falter, and their casual steps quicken, scurrying down the hall and out of sight. He's still got it. From science students to art students, all fear him. All know of his reputation and tremble.

It doesn't take long until the majority has left. There aren't that many students in her class anyway. Maybe nineteen, twenty-three at most. Nothing. He doesn't see her walk out though. She stays behind, just as she had said.

Nnoitra decides that now is the time to barge in. So he does. But the door is already open so his entrance is fairly normal. He grunts.

The girl is putting away her easel, talking with two other students. He's seen them before, but can't remember their names. Orihiba Inouhi? Keiji something? Whatever.

"And who might you be?" comes an old raspy voice. Nnoitra cocks his head to a man. The guy's hair is pulled back in a lazy ponytail and his shirt has a few loose buttons. "The name's Mr. Kyoraku," he says, smiling.

"Ya think I care?" Nnoitra spits.

Who does this guy think he is? Nnoitra's got something to do, and he doesn't want this old man getting in the way. And shouldn't this Kyoraku person know who he is? He's _the_ Nnoitra Gilga. Infamous delinquent of their school. No one ever talks to delinquents, let alone with a smile. Except for Nelliel, of course, and well, this weirdo.

Mr. Kyoraku lets out a chuckle, watching as the tall boy's gaze falls on his student with teal-coloured hair.

"Oh, so you're here to see my darling Nel, are you?" Nnoitra stiffens at the nickname. He shoots the man a look, daring him to say it again. "Is she your girlfriend or something?"

Nnoitra splutters.

"Wha—" he gawks. "No!"

"All she ever seems to draw is you."

"Nnoitra?" Nelliel speaks up. Both men turn to her, one with a grin and the other with a frown. She parts her lips, surprised. She bows goodbye to her friends and jogs to Nnoitra's side. Orihiba and Keiji ogle, unable to comprehend how such a beautiful, smart girl could be a friend with well… him. "What are you doing here?"

"Seems like your boyfriend is eager to see you," Mr. Kyoraku answers. Nnoitra raises a fist. Nelliel yanks his arm down. "Anyway, I got things to do, people to see." He struts to the door. "See you all later."

Nnoitra growls, fists clenched tight. That couldn't be a teacher. No way. And 'darling Nel'? Darling? Really? Who is this guy? Nnoitra turns to the other two students in the room. They're staring at him, bodies rigid, eyes wide, face bleaching white.

"Th' hell you still doin' here?" he barks.

They jump, squealing. They snatch up their backpacks and jackets, fumbling to carry the rest of their sketchbooks, papers and pencils. They sprint for the door, sending Nelliel worried looks, afraid the girl will be murdered, threatening or tortured by the lanky teen. But Nelliel smiles, waving, as if nothing is wrong. They leave, although very reluctantly.

"So?" Nelliel asks. "What's up?"

Nnoitra huffs.

"I got somthn' to say."

"Ok, what is it?"

"I'm—" he shoves his hands in his pockets, glimpsing around the room, "—I'm switching into Math."

Nelliel doesn't say anything at first, but her face brightens. Nnoitra frowns, not wanting to look at her. She claps her hands together, bouncing on her feet. He groans, embarrassed.

"I'm so happy for you!" she says, voice laced with joy. "I can't wait until you start!"

"Well I 'aint startn' until next semester."

Nelliel runs over to her bag, flings it over her shoulder and picks up her coat. Nnoitra gives the girl a confused look. He has never seen her so… jumpy? No. Excited before. She's always been either calm or collected. She never shows him more than a grin or small chuckle, but now… His heart swells. She's happy, because of something he said, or well, did. Said and did.

He watches as she struggled to keep all her pencils in her grasp while holding her sketchbook. He sighs, strolling over. He yanks her sketchbook out of her hand.

"Thanks," she says, smiling up at him.

"Wh'tever."

They walk out. The hall is deserted. The entire art department probably knows he's here, hence the lack of people. It's quiet. Sometimes their knuckles bump together, in which they glance at each other, startled, before looking away. Nnoitra is surprised when Nelliel doesn't try to make conversation. She usually does, asking him something dumb, which then annoys him and they commence their typical bickering contest.

He peeks at the girl. She's smiling, and her face is a bit pink. He quickly looks away, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He swallows, hyperaware of how close they are.

He decides to flip through her sketchbook, wanting to do something with himself and (hopefully) keep his mind off of her.

The heck?

She glances at him as he turns to another page, then to another. And another. What. Nnoitra brings the book closer to his face. They're all of him. Every drawing. When did she sketch these? He doesn't remember posing for her in the bus, or the cafeteria, the gym, the basketball court or by the ancient tree in the front of their school. He only ever remembers modelling in the drawing studio and her dorm… that one time.

He looks at her. She's smiling, although a bit shyly. He closes the sketchbook, a blush on his face.

"You wanna go for coffee?" she asks.

He frowns, glaring at the ground.

"Sure," he mutters, ears turning red.

Nelliel smiles, eyes gleaming at their joined hands.

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[Fin]

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Authors Note: Eep I love Nnoitra and Nelliel. By the way, I'm going to be uploading other stories that are in the same universe as this one. Just to let you guys know, if you're interested. Anyway! Thanks for reading :) I had an awesome time writing this.


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